In The Dark With You
by MayFairy
Summary: Movie-verse oneshot. What were Haymitch and Effie doing while in the bunker while they were getting bombed and everyone was watching the cat? Annoying the hell out of each other and being unintentionally cute, of course. OR: the time Effie told Haymitch she was moving in with him after the revolution and that there was nothing he could do about it.


**So I FINALLY watched Mockingjay Part 1 the other night! And all I could think about was the bunker scene and how Haymitch and Effie had to be in there somewhere but were never seen, so naturally my brain came up with this. My first proper Hayffie oneshot! (and Hunger Games in general, actually)**

**It's essentially fluff with some borderline character study-ish stuff on Effie. :) **

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The bunker is almost full when Haymitch finally gets inside. He silently moves through the fretting people until he reaches the corner on the far right from the door, where a set of bunks remains free and he might actually get some privacy. He doesn't have the stomach to be any more immersed in panicking civilians and soldiers than absolutely necessary. Compassion and tolerance are hardly any of his finer points.

Not that he really has _any_ finer points, other than the ability to sniff out liquor cabinets.

He gets about a minute to himself before _she _comes into view. The only thing that could simultaneously make being stuck in a bunker with death looming overhead better _and _worse.

Effie fucking Trinket.

It still disconcerts him how almost normal she looks now. Almost. Her eyebrows are near non-existent and her hair – or lack of it as he suspects – a mystery, but she still looks far more human than what he's used to.

There's something wrong about her being in grey though. He can see it, how she misses the colours, that tiny light in her that has gone out. District 13 has almost everything but it doesn't have beauty. He wonders if she would laugh at him if he tried to tell her that to him she's the one exception to that statement. She makes no secret of how hideous she thinks she is now so he's fairly sure she would think he was mocking her and slap him.

Definitely best to keep such foolishly sentimental thoughts to himself, especially when she's meanwhile spotted him and is heading his way.

"Move over then," she sniffs once she's standing in front of him, and he narrows his eyes at her before doing as he's told and shifting so that there's room for her to sit beside him on the edge of the mattress.

"You couldn't find someone else to annoy?" Being a dick to her is a reflex more than anything else. Can't have her thinking he's gone soft. In reality he would much rather share the bunk set with her than anyone other person in Thirteen.

Effie just rolls her eyes at him, and he gets the idea that if she'd had a fan or something of the sort she would be whacking him with it. "We're in a bunker waiting to be bombed, this would be a good a time as any to make an effort to not be so rude."

"Bite me, Princess," he snaps.

They lapse into silence that lasts at least a minute.

"You know, it's funny. I'm not used to being scared," she says quietly, not looking at him but merely straight ahead, "Not when I can show it and I don't have to smile."

"What?"

"I know what you might have thought of me and those I worked with, but we weren't complete idiots, Haymitch, we noticed when people who made mistakes went missing. Just as I could never comprehend what you went through in the games, you could never comprehend having to smile all the brighter when you know poison is only one mistake away."

Her words chill him almost to the core. He knows she's not stupid, that so much of her optimism is an act, but he'd always thought it only went as far as her knowing that her job was wrong and that she helped deliver children to their deaths.

_She looked her potential executioners in the eye and smiled, on a near constant basis, _he realises, and a strange new respect for the ridiculous woman takes up residence in him. And it irks him because it was so much easier when he had a good reason to dislike her and dismiss her as a Capitol butterfly.

When he doesn't offer an immediate reply she keeps talking, possibly due to nerves or possibly because it's what she's good at.

"Of course, at least I knew that if I were to die there it would be dignified," she babbles, "As opposed to being blown up which is just all manner of ghastly-"

Haymitch wordlessly lets his hand move to cover hers where it rests on the mattress between them. She goes quiet and finally looks at him, her eyes rather wide and soft in their fear. In so many ways she's like a child in all of this, but at the same time she's the furthest from it, she's lost her entire way of life and every familiar part of her world.

He at least belongs in a shitty bunker. She never will, she's a fucking annoying ray of sunshine that gives you sunburn, but you'd miss if it was gone. (And he would never admit to just how glad he is that she's here.)

That's when he registers that she's started talking _again _and he doesn't even want to listen to find out what about, he just needs her to shut up.

"Princess, your mouth is talking, you might wanna look to that," he murmurs, and she purses her lips.

"Well, perhaps if you contributed more to the conversation I wouldn't need to," she says airily. "Or do you only know how to socialise when you have alcohol in your system?"

He isn't sure if that should annoy him, but his lips quirk so he supposes it doesn't. "I thought I didn't know how to socialise anyway."

Effie lets out a funny sort of choked laugh. "Well, no. You don't. But I've forgiven you for that."

He lifts an eyebrow at that but she just looks down at their connected hands and slowly but deliberately entwines her fingers with his. He makes no move to stop her.

"What will happen, Haymitch?" She asks. "If we win. What happens…after?"

"What do you mean?"

"What will you do?"

It's not something he's ever stopped to think about and the question throws him for a moment. But then he shrugs and says what is likely the truth. "I'll go home and finally get to enjoy some good liquor again."

She snorts in a way that's less dignified than he would expect of her. "Of course." Then she pauses before saying, very quietly, "It's occurred to me that I won't have – that I'd like to be near the kids. They're near you, and your house has a couple of spare rooms that would be more than adequate-"

For a moment he's too stunned to speak. "Eff, are you asking me if you can move in?"

She blinks at him. "No. I was telling you that I intend to."

"Telling me? It's my goddamn house!"

"Yes, and I'd like to see you try and keep me out of it now that I've decided I'm going to stay there," she retorts, holding his gaze with the determination that is her finest quality, "Someone's got to keep you from drinking yourself into an early grave and I already have experience in the area."

"Fucking hell, this is my punishment for everything I've done ever," he groans.

"Yes, I rather suppose it is," she says with a smirk.

They bicker and argue for some time on the subject before finding other things to bicker and argue about. They are Effie and Haymitch after all – being at odds with each other is their natural state of being.

But then the bombs hit. The bunker shakes and the first time it happens Effie screams along with several others in the large room, but her scream is by far the loudest and shrillest. Thankfully no one seems too interested in seeing where it came from because everyone is too focused on eyeing the ceiling with worry.

Effie clasps her hands in her lap and fixes her eyes on them. She's uncommonly quiet as the attack continues, but Haymitch sees her flinch at every impact.

There is something so _wrong _about Effie Trinket being quiet. She barely resembles the woman he would sleep with annually when their tributes lost only to resume hating the next morning. And it's not just Effie being quiet, the real kicker in it all is Effie being _real_. Not a Capitol Barbie, but someone who had been just as screwed over by the government as him.

When everyone crowds to watch the stupid fucking cat chase the light from the torch in Katniss's hands, Haymitch takes advantage of the darkness and lies down across the bottom bunk to potentially get some shut eye (though with the imminent bombs and lack of liquor, it's unlikely). Effie hesitates for a moment before joining him, and the damned bunks are so small that he's against the wall and her legs are all but tangled with his.

"Excuse me," he grumbles, "Think you'll find this is my bunk. Get up on the top one if you wanna sleep."

"Shut up, Haymitch," she whispers, and when her fingers knot in his cardigan he doesn't argue. Not when she's close that he can smell her – _her _and not the disgusting flowery perfumes she had worn back in the capitol.

Her nose is touching his and her breath is warm on his cheek and god he wants to touch her more than anything in the whole damn world.

"Definitely like you better when you look and smell like a human being," he murmurs.

"Definitely like you better sober and smelling like a human being instead of a bottle of whiskey."

His hand moves to cup her cheek and pull her that little bit closer so that he can kiss her. A proper kiss, one that's actually somewhat tender and affectionate, in a roundabout sort of way. Any kiss they've exchanged before now was only a precursor to needy and hateful sex, and this couldn't be more different.

It's real. Just like she is. (Even though it shouldn't be, and she shouldn't be, by the very laws of nature.)

The kiss lingers too long, but he doesn't want it to end and there's not exactly anywhere for him to move.

"Haymitch," Effie breathes in a way that pulls on his heart as much as it turns him on.

"I know, Eff," he replies, letting his hand sweep down the line of her shoulder and arm, "I-"

She's kissing him again before he can get another word out, and this kiss is more forceful, more like their old ones but still entirely different because it's driven by bizarre genuine connection and not messy grief.

But it's heartening to know that the fire that initially drew him to her isn't gone. That spark between them is still there.

Another bomb falls and this one feels so much closer than all the others. Their lips part and Effie instinctively curls into him, burying her face into the crook of his shoulder and whimpering.

"It's okay, Princess," he finds himself saying as he wraps an arm around her, "We're okay."

What calms him is the thought of going home when it's all done. Despite his initial opposition to the idea, the image of having Effie around his house every day for the rest of forever, with her stupid voice and her ability to annoy the ever living hell out of him without even trying, is something that actually nearly makes him grin a little even though it should make him want to run for the hills.

_Of all the people in Panem, it had to be fucking Effie Trinket, _he thinks, inwardly shaking his head, _I had to get attached to the queen of nagging and manners and fashion. Still, at least I'll never be bored. Not even when she's lecturing me, because she's hilarious when she's angry. _

It might never make sense, but the two of them will always fit. Somehow, against all logic of the universe.

He always hasliked going against expectations. He just hadn't intended to go so completely against his own.

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**I really hoped that satisfied your Hayffie fluff needs! Feedback and constructive criticism are always appreciated, especially since this is new territory for me. **

**Thanks for reading! **

**-MayFairy :) **


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